


A Shot at Tomorrow

by most_curiously_blue_eyes



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, M/M, Memory Alteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 19:10:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1790032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/most_curiously_blue_eyes/pseuds/most_curiously_blue_eyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Erik, Raven and Charles are an unlikely trio of comrades on a journey through the devastated wastelands. At the end of the road awaits the legendary Cerebro, a mysterious device created to amplify a telepath's power. With it, they can save a world that seems beyond salvation. There's a catch, though: according to all resources, the telepath won't survive Cerebro.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Shot at Tomorrow

 

 

Broken sobbing wakes him up in the night, but despite his sincerest desire to help, Erik can do nothing to make it stop. He remains as he was, seated against the cold, concrete wall, eyes closed and breathing steady as he refuses to give in to the temendous urge to take the trembling body by his side into his arms and attempt to bring relief where there can be none. In no way does he acknowledge the fact that he hears his companion crying, in no way does he reveal that he is not asleep, although the awareness that the other man is in pain is painful to him in turn.

_If only I had your powers_ , he thinks carefully, a whisper of a wish on the surface of his consciousness; in the time he has known Charles Xavier, he learned to shield his mind as best as it is possible in order to ease his friend's suffering just this tiny fraction - in order to be able to offer him the refuge of silence he could not find in his own head.

At nights, however, it is useless and Charles barely ever sleeps.

They are in one of the most dangerous places in the known world, the only place where the two of them are safe for now – the ruined building of the Pensylvania State Prison at the edge of the wastelands, home to the Order for the New World, or whatever other bulshit name the bunch of blood-thirsty morons came up with for themselves. All mutants, he supposes. The leader of the Order is definitely a mutant, Erik knows; he has seen the man kill sixteen troops sent by the Government with the claws that grew at his knuckles and could be retracted at will. He has also seen the bullets that hit the man's body and then were pushed out from within his flesh by the force of the regenerating tissue alone. Logan, he's called. Insufferable bastard, in Erik's opinion, but decent enough to let them stay for a while, even though he probably knows that they're the most wanted fugitives in the history of the after-war world.

There's not enough food for everyone. There's water, but no sleeping arrangements. The prison is a fortress, but it's ill-equipped to provide shelter for the five dozens of people trying to survive here. Logan and a bunch of his people go to raids and steal provisions from transports that go to the nearby Government outpost, but these transports are few these days. Nobody talks about it, but Erik is no fool: soon, there will be no food left to sustain the inhabitants of the planet at all. Soon, it will have all proven to be in vain.

'Erik?...' Charles whispers beside him, collected now when uncontrollable sobs are no longer shaking his body. 'Are you awake?'

'Shhh,' Erik replies, moving his head slightly to glance at his companion. 'You should fall back asleep. Raven may come back tomorrow.'

Charles is looking at him, blue eyes wide and bright in the semi-darkness of their temporary living space – what was once a cell, two by two metres large, devoid of any furniture, or anything else really besides the hole in the floor that had an obvious purpose. Previously, the place belonged to one of Logan's gang, but it was free for now. They didn't inquire.

'What if she doesn't come back?' Charles asks, fearful and tired, making Erik want to do anything to protect him from further harm. The world may be a God-forsaken place, its inhabitants wretched beyond recognition, but Erik believes if there is one person in existence worth saving, it's Charles, with his vulnerability and kindness, and his amazing powers that damage him further with each day.

'She will come back,' Erik promises.

He remembers the day when he found Charles, almost dead, in the pool of his own blood in what had once been the entrance hall of the Xavier family estate. Raven, his eleven year-old companion, his sister, orphaned by the war, accompanied him then; they were on a scavenger hunt for supplies and maybe some weapons. The details are foggy, but Erik can clearly recall how Raven immediately placed the dying boy's head in her lap and looked up with large, pleading eyes.

_Save him_ , she begged when she had never asked for anything before.

So Erik did, he saved the boy, although he does not exactly remember how. It was ten years ago, anyway, back when he was barely eighteen and maybe a little addicted to substances he should not have touched, substances that numbed the pain and drove him further along the way to madness. Never in the time since then has he regretted listening to Raven, saving Charles.

Never has he doubted Raven's good judgement, too, and he is not going to start now.

'They're hungry,' Charles says, changing the subject. He always does that when he does not agree with Erik or when he doesn't believe what Erik tells him. 'Even Logan doesn't believe they will make it as far as until next year. They have a few months, maybe. How long do you think we have?' He asks, barely above a whisper in the emptiness of their cell.

'Probably forever,' Erik replies, touches his hair. 'You could make Logan go with us. We could use him. It's not going to be easy, after what has to be done. There will be chaos.'

'And what then? We take Logan away, the people here won't even make it until next week. I'm not that fucking cruel, Erik,' Charles protests and sighs, the kind of sigh that starts with a slow intake of breath and ends in a silent huff of that breath against Erik's shoulder as Charles shifts closer towards him.

He's cold, Erik notices. The fever is getting worse instead of subsiding; it's no wonder, because their conditions are not particularly conductive to fast healing and they have no medication whatsoever. Even the painkillers are long gone by now. Hopefully, Raven will be back soon with the antibiotics she is supposed to bring. Erik can tell that Charles won't last much longer if this goes on.

He cannot afford to lose Charles.

'It's not cruelty. Everyone here knows what's coming, Charles. They'll die either way, sooner or later. You could help them,' Erik suggests.

Charles shakes his head violently and breaks into a coughing fit. 'I, ah, I will not,' he manages to wheeze in between coughing. Erik hopes it's still just the cold and not the sickness taking hold of Charles' lungs. Pneumonia at this point will kill him. He's much too exhausted and his immunity system might just be too weakened; Erik can't remember the time when he's last seen Charles eat properly, so it's no wonder that his body is losing the ability to defend itself against the combined assault of radiation, low temperatures and the air polluted with mutated germs.

The younger man has always been the most frail of the three of them, the most vulnerable. Erik hates even the thought of not being able to save him, but it is becoming clear that they are running out of time.

'Come here,' he mutters and grabs Charles' arms to move him into his lap; on his part, Charles doesn't protest to being manhandled, which makes the operation that much easier. Once he is repositioned, the younger man lets himself lean into Erik's arms for more warmth.

He is much too thin. Erik makes some swift calculations and decides that he can forego meals every two days to get more food into Charles instead. A part of him, the survivor part, doesn't like this idea, reasoning with the other part, the more idealistic one, that he is already giving up enough – his blankets, for one, and his scarf and gloves, not to mention his ability to flee if things get too much out of hand (he won't leave Charles, after all, he can't - so he cannot run fast enough); but he ignores it in favour of the soft assurance that even if they fail, even if they meet their death, at least they won't be alone.

Erik has been alone for too long. He doesn't ever want to be, again.

'I'm sorry,' Charles mutters, teeth clattering as he shivers against Erik's chest. 'I cause nothing but trouble for you and Raven. If only I could,' he pauses and moans softly when Erik's hands – warm, he knows, his hands are always warm – find their way under the multiple layers of his clothes and start drawing small patterns on his back in a soothing, gentle caress just above where he knows the scar is. 'If only I could give them to you...'

'Your powers are a part of you,' Erik says easily, whispers into his ear, wishing he could do more, wishing they could be more than just unfortunate companions in a post-apocalyptic world.

The truth is, he loves Charles. He loves him fiercely and possessively, but also gently and protectively; the extent of his feelings frightens him, because he knows there is no chance for them to be happy together. The reality of their world allows for no happy endings. There is just one ending, just one exit for everyone, and they are heading towards it because what else could they do? None of this changes the truth, though: Erik loves Charles more than he is willing to admit out loud, more than he loves Raven (the first person he's saved, his young sister, related to him not by blood shared, but by blood spilled) and the helplessness he has to face everyday in the world which will not last much longer frustrates him.

'I wish I had some kind of power,' he sighs softly and Charles trembles, a different kind of shiver than the feverish ones that shake his body every few minutes. 'I wish I had a power like yours, or a completely different one; a power that would change everything, that would remove every obstacle on our way and help us achieve our goal. I wish I could have a power to save you.'

It takes a moment for him to realize Charles is crying. He asks, but he receives no answer.

Outside, it's the dawn of another day.

 

Raven returns with better news than anyone could have anticipated: there's an abandoned bunker close nearby, a pre-war shelter probably. It's smaller than the prison, but it's less irradiated and much better equipped. As proof, she shows Logan the bag of canned and dry food she scavenged from the place, and she promises it's just a fraction of what is there; she says it has clean water, which seems to win Logan over.

To Erik, she also shows the weapons, the haz-mat suits and medicine she found somewhere else – she won't tell where, which means she must have done something crazily dangerous that Erik would not approve of. Together, they figure out the dosage of the penicilin-based antibiotics and administer it to Charles, who is only half awake at the time.

Logan decides to move his people to the bunker. He offers to take them along, but Erik refuses.

'We're crossing the wasteland,' he explains simply.

Logan looks at him for a long while, then shakes his head. 'Good luck, bub,' he says. He won't be joining them. Erik never really counted on it, anyway.

The three of them are left to their own devices when the people of the Order leave. Charles is unconscious for the next three days and sees nightmares in his dreams. Erik knows because he sees them too, projected at himself and Raven; the nightmares are not as much nightmares as echoes of past events, of the thoughts Charles can't protect himself against, of the day when he was dying in the pool of his blood and thought nobody would come for him.

On the early morning of the fourth day, Charles opens his startlingly blue eyes and croaks out,

'Water,' and Erik helps him sit up, props him against the wall and lets him drink, slowly and carefully, just to wet his dry lips at first, then more, in small sips.

Raven smiles at both of them and Charles returns the smile weakly. It seems to be enough for her, because she returns to preparing food – canned soup boiled with vegetables she won't tell where she found. Erik scanned them with the Geiger's counter he still carries around everywhere and they seem fine, so he can only assume she stole them from a transport. He doesn't care. What Charles doesn't know, he can't disapprove of. Himself, he's beyond disapproval for now.

And Charles can definitely use the warm meal.

'I got us a map,' Raven informs as she gives Erik a bowl of soup to feed Charles with, because it's clear that Charles is unable to hold the bowl and spoon by himself.

She watches as Erik proceeds with the task, as he blows on each spoonful before he directs it to Charles' mouth. She doesn't comment, but she has a secret smile on her face when she eats. Erik thinks she's beautiful: hair red and slick, eyes golden and twinkling, skin a vibrant blue. He wishes he could be like her, powerful and useful. He wishes he were a mutant.

'It's good,' Charles says softly, gratefully. Erik knows he hated the rations the Order provided them with, the dry bread and some kind of jerky. He remembers their second day in the prison, when Logan basically told them the meat was dried rat; he remembers holding back Charles' hair as the younger man vomitted into the hole in the ground.

'You're such a little princess,' Erik tells him fondly when Charles is done eating, when he leans back against the hard wall and waits for Erik to clean his face where some soup dribbled down his chin.

'Does that make you a prince?' Charles asks, offering him a tired little grin.

'More likely a beggar,' Erik replies, dabbing at his chin with a piece of relatively not-dirty cloth.

'He's obviously your prince, though, isn't he, Charles?' Raven asks in turn and her good humour persists even when Erik glares at her.

Charles laughs, but later, when Raven is out on a patrol, he leans in closer and tells Erik, 'If I am to be a princess, there's nobody I'd rather have as my prince,' and even though it's a joke, an effort to lighten up his spirits, Erik loves him just a little bit more.

 

_'You're going to kill him,' Logan accuses, approaching him when Charles is finally asleep in their cell and Erik can go stretch his legs._

_'Everybody dies,' Erik replies with a pretense of indifference that he doesn't feel. He shrugs to add to the act. He knows he succeeds when Logan growls._

_'You've got no right to toy with his life,' the mutant says darkly._

_'Why not? I don't see him protesting,' Erik mocks. 'You're ten years too late to change our minds about that, old man.'_

_'You mean your mind,' Logan corrects._

_Erik grins. 'What's the difference? He thinks what I tell him to think. He goes where I want him to go. I tell him to die for me, he dies for me.'_

_It's not true, any of it, it may be the other way around, as far as Erik is concerned, but Logan doesn't need to know that. He has no right to snoop, to ask these questions, he definitely has no right to judge. What is he doing? Sitting on his ass, waiting for the end to come, what does he accomplish? At least they try. They know the price, but at least they are ready to pay it._

_'That kid won't survive the journey,' Logan says after a while. 'You need five, six days to reach Westchester from here. I tell you, even if you cross the wastelands, he won't make it.'_

_'He's stronger than that,' Erik tells him._

_He truly believes it._

 

Two days later, they are as ready to go as they will ever be. The protective wear Raven has found is not in the best condition, but Erik supposes it will do. Charles is rather excited; it's easy to tell by the way he's smiling, but also by the fact that he can't seem to stand still. All Erik wants to do is grab him and kiss him senseless, but he does not, he will not, he can't.

'You should do it,' Raven says knowingly and Erik briefly wonders if he really is that transparent, or if maybe she has an additional power she has been keeping secret all this time. 'You might not get a chance again.'

He does not dignify the suggestion with a reply. 'We should go,' he announces loudly instead. 'Before the sunrise catches us here.'

The wastelands cannot be crossed during the day; it's a universally known fact: the heat of the sun on the metal and concrete panes somehow heightens the radiation to a lethal level that even the protective wear wouldn't be enough against. Most people don't believe they can be crossed at any time at all, but Erik is not one of those people – he has met somebody who did it, in the past. He knows it won't be easy, he knows Charles is in no state to be travelling, but they have a chance and they will take it.

It's dark out and it's not going to get any brighter until the sun rises. They won't be able to see much beyond their own limbs. The solution to that is easy enough: in order not to get lost, the three of them are tied to each other with a rope, with Charles between Raven and Erik. Neither of them say it, but it's an obvious attempt to keep the younger man safe and to make sure he doesn't fall behind no matter what; Charles tolerates it, even if he's not fond of being reminded he's a burden. He's the weakest. He's the sickliest. He's the most important of them, too.

'I can hear you thinking, Erik, and I don't really like your train of thought,' Charles informs him and even though he's wearing the protective helmet that mostly obscures his face, even though it's too dark to see anything anyway, Erik can tell he's grinning as he speaks. 'I'm not really a princess, you know. I can bloody well make it through the wastelands. The question is, can you?'

'Is that a challenge?' Erik asks and pinches Charles through the haz-mat suit. He can't tell if he actually managed to pinch any skin, but he knows the effort has been noticed, because Charles laughs, more like giggles, actually, carefree and bright, and Raven laughs as well. At that moment, they are just the three unlikely friends that united against the world almost ten years ago, for better or for worse. They are just them. The task at hand can wait, because they are still able to laugh like the nuclear apocalypse and the near extinction of all life never happened.

 

Of course, it takes less than two hours for everything to go wrong.

'We're lost,' Raven announces, trying in vain to read the map in the dim light of her torch, 'and my damn batteries are dying. Of course I didn't pack any batteries, Charles, and stay out of my head or I will kick you in yours.'

'I'm sorry,' Charles mutters.

He's always eager to use his powers when he thinks the situation is bordering on hopeless; Erik shakes his head and forces himself to remain calm. Someone needs to be. Probably, it would be better for that someone to be Raven, since she's the best at adapting to difficult situations, but Erik can forgive her the small-scale panic attack for the time being – as long as she snaps out of it soon.

'What direction do we need?' He asks.

'North. We need to head up north,' Raven replies and at that precise moment, her torchlight flickers on and off, on again – and dies. She swears in German. Erik finds it a tiny bit funny and wonders if she picked it up from him. Probably.

They're stuck in the middle of nowhere and they only know that their goal is somewhere out there, north of where they set off from. It would be easier if they knew where exactly north was, but Erik supposes that would have been too easy.

He hears something in the clear silence of the night. A sort of a clicking noise. It's difficult to assert its origin, but Erik can bet it's not something friendly clicking at them in greeting. He reaches a hand to Charles, who he knows is already doing the same for Raven, drawing her closer. He also knows that Raven won't have any of it, and he's okay with this.

Out of the three of them, she's the only one who actually stands a chance if a creature, a wasteland dweller, attacks them. Not only is she best equipped, with her amazing ability to adapt

(he can hear her sniffing, trying to smell the enemy because her vision takes longer to get used to the pitch blackness)

and survive, especially if Charles helps her from within the confines of her mind; she's also strong and agile, used to fighting for the three of them when necessary. Erik feels useless, sometimes, in comparison to her. He wishes he had her mutation. He wishes he had any mutation at all. Instead, he only has a gun, which won't do them any good here.

'There's three of them,' Raven says, 'and I have no idea what the fuck they are. They stink, they stink of iron,' she mutters. 'Old blood. Chitin. Maybe. Ugh, they stink,' she makes a disgusted noise.

'I'm sorry,' Charles apologizes, 'I may have enhanced your senses too much.'

Erik's skin crawls at the idea of what the creatures may be, of what will remain of them if they are attacked. He gives Charles his gun and says, 'Disassemble it. I need the parts, the spring.'

Charles does as ordered swiftly, efficiently, as though he's been disassembling firearms all his life while in fact, he's never held one before. Erik knows it's because Charles is drawing on the knowledge from his head, and he's all too eager to feed the telepath all he remembers about guns even as he concentrates on assembling a simple explosive – something he learned to do in his fucking _sleep_ after the freak camp, back when such skills were essential for survival among humans who looked more like monsters to him than actual monsters did.

He remembers that nuclear winter. He will never forget how to be a survivor.

'Charles, the spring,' he whispers urgently even as he feels a sharp tug on the rope; it's Raven, and he hears her grunt as she kicks at the enemy. He knows the exact moment when she's no longer tied to Charles.

'I'll fight them off, you two should run!' She yells from Erik's left. She's slightly behind him. A sound of something hard hitting something _harder still_ resounds in the darkness.

'Charles,' he repeats.

'I lost it,' Charles replies, groans, and he's on his knees, blindly searching in the darkness for a tiny piece of metal. 'Erik, Erik, I lost it,' he mutters, and then suddenly, Erik feels a pressure at the back of his mind, as though Charles is forcefully rummaging through his brain – why would Charles _do that_ – before in the next instant, it's gone and Charles lets out a small triumphant sigh.

He pushes the spring into Erik's hand and Erik has no time to think about it, because with the spring, his smart explosive device is ready and he activates it immediately, shouts to Raven,

'Duck!'

and throws it where he hears the noises before he pushes himself at Charles to cover him from any danger. The explosion is massive, all things considered, and in the sudden, almost blinding flash of light, Erik sees the _things_ that attacked them: three giant scorpions, crabs, whatever kind of hybrid between the two. The creatures scuttle away, hissing, scared off by the flash and the heat, and Charles holds on to Erik, fingers clutching at the haz-mat suit so tightly, they might break its fabric, and they are saved for now.

'That, was seriously good,' Raven announces and Erik is happy that she's okay. Even when she kicks him as he gets up, growling, 'You could have killed me, you bastard.'

'It was just a flare, don't be dramatic,' Erik tells her and helps Charles up to his feet.

'You're an asshole and I hate you,' Raven informs him conversationally. She turns to Charles. 'I'm angry with him, so I'm going to pretend he's not here. Now, we might be out of the frying pan, but the fire is bound to burn hot pretty soon. Any ideas where north is? Even stars won't help us, too cloudy.'

Charles is the one who speaks, even though usually Erik makes decisions like these. 'That way,' he points in a seemingly random direction. Have they not come from there? Isn't that the reverse of where they should be heading? 'That's north. I, managed to connect to a mind out there. A mind that knew this.'

And Erik supposes that they could waste more time, arguing if it's prudent to trust one of the voices in Charles' head in the middle of nowhere – but they don't. There's no point. Either way, they have no other direction and in a few hours, when the sun comes up, they'll die. Instead of pointlessly discussing the inevitable, they simply go in the direction Charles chose, treading blindly in the dark. No living creatures bother them along the way.

In the calm and quiet of the night, Erik has time to think.

 

_Erik wanted to slip inside the abandoned mansion, grab all the supplies they could get and leave immediately. Raven wanted to slip inside the abandoned mansion, sleep in a real bed, eat at a real table and feel like a little girl for once in her life. But when they do slip in, unnoticed by anyone – the mansion is ruined, after all - they find a boy in the main hall, a metal pole stuck in his lower back. He lies face down on the floor, trembling, but making no noise other than the occasional gurgling sound as his breathing is interrupted by the spasms his body makes to rid itself of the blood in his mouth and lungs. He's dying. There's no doubt about that. He's dying and he won't survive to see another day._

_Raven sits on her knees by the boy and lifts his head, turning him on his side to both be able to place his head in her lap and to make it easier for him to breathe. She looks up at Erik, yellow eyes wide and scared. Unlike him, it's the first time she experiences a death first-hand. Unlike him, she's still a child – a mutant, but still a child._

_'Save him,' she begs._

_Erik remembers the camp, remembers all the other children he saw there; he never felt sorry for any of them. He may have felt grief on their behalf, he corrects himself – but it was just meaningless grief for the entire generation that would never see the light, that would die or live with the horror of the Holocaust forever ingrained in their hearts. No, he was not sorry for them specifically._

_He is sorry for the child in Raven's arms. He can almost feel the boy's pain, emanating from his spine up and down his whole body. He can almost feel the pain, only it's not an “almost” at all – he can actually feel it, and the boy looks up at him, an unexpected clarity in his blue, blood-shot eyes and it takes his breath away._

_So he saves him. He's one of them, after all._

 

They make it, barely, before dawn. The sky is already grey, devoid of all colour like it can only be right before daybreak. According to the maps, there is supposed to be a Stark department store in the area – and there it is, an old, brick building that survived the apocalypse almost in one piece, towering over the remains of what must have been a fully packed parking lot. The cars are nothing but rust-eaten wrecks, some warped by the weather, others – by other things. Built before the war by a visionary – Howard Stark was his name – the store used to be the epitome of decadence. Now, it's a haven, although whether it's a safe haven remains to be determined.

'There might be monsters inside,' Erik says, weary.

'No humans or mutants, though,' Charles informs him.

'Don't worry, if it's not sentient, it's no match against us,' Raven assures him. 'I don't think there's anything, though. It's pretty close to the wastelands. Most creatures won't come here. Radiation scares them off. That's what Logan said when I showed him the maps, although he did conveniently forget to mention the crabs.'

'Radiation. Is it something we need to worry about?' Erik asks. He can't wait to ditch the haz-mat suit and take a bath if possible. Shave, too. He also can't wait to sleep. Maybe, if he's lucky, he'll get to share sleeping space with Charles again. To keep him warm. To keep both of them warm.

He wonders what could have been, had the White House not been destroyed by Russia's nuclear attack after Hiroshima; had the world not descended into the chaos of a three-day long exchange of imploding atom. Would he have met Charles? Probably not. There's no such thing as destiny, after all; his fate is the result of what he has ever decided to do with his life. If he tries hard enough, though, he can imagine a world where walking in the sunlight without protective wear doesn't mean certain death; where two friends could play chess and look at the sky in admiration of a coming day.

'I don't think so,' Raven says.

Charles nods. 'Brick walls. It's just like back home in Westchester,' he tells them. 'Even though New York City was practically wiped out with a direct hit and the area around the mansion was irradiated as fuck, the radiation was mild at most inside.' He explains: 'It's because brick walls are thick. They can protect us from much more radiation than aluminium. They're probably as good as concrete.'

'I'll defer to your expertise, Professor,' Erik jokes and pokes Charles lightly in the back.

'Don't mind if you do,' Charles replies, laughing.

Even if Erik's heart clenches at the sound, at what it will mean to have this sound taken away from him eventually, he doesn't let it show. They know what they're doing. They know how it'll end.

 

_The settlement in New Orleans is the most crowded place Erik has ever been to and the only big city that doesn't have a gene recognition system. According to the official information, there's over a thousand people living there, all of them human. He does't know the data regarding mutants because such things are never broadcasted, so he is only aware of two, both of them children under his care._

_Raven fits in easily enough, as she always do. She's a black woman here, because it's easier to hide like that and she has to hide if she's to secure food for all three of them. Charles, well, he's more problematic. He's pale and blue-eyed, for one, and his accent is all wrong for these parts. He's also spoiled, weak and annoying._

_Erik doesn't allow the younger boy to talk to anyone, he doesn't want anybody to know they are from the NY area, that they came on the train right before the rebels blew up the tracks and destroyed the last remaining means of transport through the wastelands. Travellers from NY are generally treated with mistrust, because the irradiation in that region is so high, they always come carrying disease and madness with them._

_Well, not the three of them, they're perfectly healthy, as long as one doesn't count Charles' limp and telepathy, and Erik's cynism, and Raven's blue skin under the guise she's wearing, but it's not contagious. Two mutants, one human, an unlikely trio of survivors, that's them. They're further away from the goal Erik wishes to accomplish than before, but it's okay. They'll get there in the end._

_Until then, he will help Charles become stronger._

 

The department store building is empty. According to the Geiger's counter, it's more than safe enough. Additionally, it's also apparently paradise.

'How come the generators are still working?' Raven asks, awed as she looks around the ground floor, where clothing shops and a bookshop are located. The displays are in pristine condition and, more importantly, there is light, real, electrical light in the whole building, dimmer than in bunkers, but more constant, without flickers.

Charles laughs suddenly. 'Howard Stark. Of course,' he says. 'Sun batteries. Solar cells, whatever it's called,' he explains. 'Oh my God, this is- this is amazing, do the two of you realize how amazing this is? I never thought they actually installed them somewhere, I thought, I always thought it was just a theory.'

'Calm down, Charles, you sound like a madman,' Erik admonishes, trying to keep a straight face even as he's grinning at Charles' excitement, as he feels its contagious effects already. 'Bathrooms. Do you think there's any running water left? Or any water at all, for that matter?'

'Well, if we're as lucky as with the electricity, then we might find a working canalization system,' Charles informs him. 'Let's go, my friends, let's rid ourselves of these atrocious suits.'

'You didn't quite complain that much about them back in the wastelands,' Raven jibes.

'That's because I didn't want to jinx it, and fashion hardly matters when one can't see the tip of one's own nose in the dark anyway,' Charles replies easily.

They are in more luck than Erik thought possible, because not only is there running water, there are showers in the bathroom marked _for men_ as well. The three of them ditch the haz-mat suits in the other bathroom and get into various states of undress (Charles' shout of, _My God, Raven, warn a man would you!_ when she throws all her clothes merrily away and shows off her fully nude form is loud, pretentious and funny just like every other time).

Raven is the first to take a shower head and turn on the water. It's neither hot nor cold, but just right and Erik laughs loudly and grabs Charles, holds him towards Raven as she attacks them with a mighty splash. Charles yelps, tries to break free, eventually succeeds and swears revenge. He pushes Erik under the stream of water before he finds a bucket, fills it – and proceeds to spill its contents at Raven.

She shrieks and splashes Erik with cold water in some unfair revenge. He can't help but just laugh, especially when Charles tries to cover him for no reason – he's already wet, after all – but slips on the floor and falls straight into Erik's arms.

'This is crazy,' Charles exclaims, but he, too, is grinning.

'We're crazy,' Erik agrees easily.

And just as easily, he leans down and finally brushes his lips against Charles' in the gentlest kiss. It's everythning he's dreamed of and more, because after not even a second, Charles locks his arms at the nape of his neck and kisses back, pressing his body against Erik's. It doesn't last long, not as long as Erik would have wanted -

_I want to keep you forever_

but it's enough. It means he's not the only one. It means Charles wants him too, and the knowledge is exhilarating, despite the future that looms ahead of them. Or maybe in the face of it, especially.

'Let's stay here,' Raven suggests all of a sudden. She's so beautiful now, wet blue skin glistening with droplets of water in the dimmed light, yellow eyes warm and bright. Erik loves her: his little sister, the girl who saved him from being consumed by his own hatred, who inadvertently gave him Charles. The mutant girl who lost so much but still retains the ability to smile.

'We can't,' Charles replies softly, but sharply.

'Why not?' Raven asks, defiant. 'Look, we can actually be happy here. Logan told me there's enough food. Running water, electricity. Howard Stark created a real paradise of a place for us. We've been wandering for roughly ten years, Charles, after we got away from Westchester. Now we're going back and there's no way we'll succeed where we're headed. And even if we do, it won't stop the end of the world, because that? Already happened. We can't reverse it. But we _can_ stay here, die happy here. Don't you want that?'

She seems so small and so defeated, like the child who once begged Erik to save a boy who was dying in her arms. She's doing it again: begging for that same boy's life. This time, however, Erik cannot help.

'Of course we want that,' Charles replies before Erik reacts; his voice resounds softly, gently over the sound of running water. 'But we can't.'

And it's suddenly – too much, Erik thinks, and it takes his breath away. It's too much and too sad, to imagine what Charles has to be going through. Selfless sacrifice. That's what he's going to do, he's going to let himself die, and why?

Because Erik conditioned him into wanting this, convinced him it's the only option.

'Maybe,' Erik says, testing the words on their tongue, not sure if he likes the way they sound, 'we could stay. A while. There is no reason to hurry, after all – is there?' And, his mind supplies, the later they decide to press on, the longer Charles will have. The longer he will have with Charles. It's hardly a comforting thought, but Erik prefers it to the alternative.

Charles doesn't, obviously.

'Excuse me, but _no reason to hurry_? Erik, I can't believe you,' he says and sounds – disappointed. 'We're talking about hundreds of people, maybe thousands , thousands of innocent people, _our_ people. They have never seen the light of day. More than that, they have never been truly awake! Do you understand this, Erik? Because I don't think you do. There are people out there who have been kept in an artificially induced coma since the moment they were born and finally, after ten years of wandering, we have a real chance of saving them, of making a difference – but you two are seriously considering living our lives in this... cocoon of luxury instead?'

'Charles,' Erik tries and touches his hand, but the younger man flinches away.

'I'm sorry,' Charles says, voice breaking just a little, and along with it breaks Erik's heart. 'The two of you are, of course, welcome to stay here. I can't make you accompany me. If need be, I am, I am prepared, to continue this journey alone.'

Erik wants to pull him back into his arms, but doesn't. He wants to apologize. He wants to assure Charles that he's not going to abandon him, ever, until the end of the line.

Instead, he mocks, 'Well, we can't let you do that, now can we? You're sure to fuck up if we're not there to save your ass all the time,' and it's not what he means, but the words are already out of his mouth before he can stop them.

'What the fuck is your problem?' Charles asks, incredulous. 'If that's your way of telling me you think I'm, what, useless, well, I knew that already, Mister Amazing! I knew that, I _know_ that, but I'm still willing to do something that you _told me I can do_. So are you with me or are you not?'

'Charles,' Raven speaks and, unlike Erik, she succeeds in trying to touch the man. She grips his shoulder and pretends she doesn't see how damaged he is. How defeated. 'We're sorry, Charles. Don't get angry. You must understand us: think about how it would make you feel if you knew, for sure, that the success of our mission meant me or Erik would end up dead. We very much don't want to lose you, is all-'

'And we will lose you,' Erik finishes for her. This time when he reaches out, Charles does not evade his touch, so Erik pulls both him and Raven into a short hug. He loves them both. He'd do anything in his might to protect them if he could. He hates that he can't.

'Two days,' Charles agrees finally. He's shivering a little. They've been standing in the showers, dripping wet, for too long. It reminds Erik that not a few days ago, Charles had been sick, that it could have been pneumonia or something even worse. It's not a happy memory.

'What?' He asks, distracted.

'That's the longest we can spare,' Charles replies. 'Two days when we can pretend we're the last peopple left in this pretense of a world. After that,' he shakes his head, 'we have to move.'

_this is when you kiss me again_ , Erik hears in his head, hopeful, maybe a bit playful.

He pretends he didn't hear anything. He doesn't kiss Charles again. The first time was a mistake, a slip-up. He makes a choice now, the most difficult choice in his life: he will let Charles go.

'No,' he tells the younger man, 'you were right. We have to press on. There's still a long road ahead of us. I suggest we dry up, scavenge some warm clothes from the shops – no sundresses, Raven – and eat ssomething. Then we go to sleep. We should rest until the late afternoon, then we can go. According to Logan, there's a settlement of the Government about fifteen miles west from here and an encampment of the resistence not much further north. It's best if we encounter neither.'

Raven glares at him as she separates from the hug. Charles does not. He just nods, smiles reassuringly – as though it's Erik that needs the comfort, not him. It's fucked up, but that's what they always are, have always been.

 

_Raven sits on her knees by the dying boy, her naked blue legs a stark contrast against the pool of blood on the dirty floor. Her yellow eyes are wide and scared, her breathing laboured. It's the first time she experiences a death, and this particular death is being broadcasted at her, at Erik, projected in waves coming from the boy's mind. A telepath, he's a telepath. A mutant, just like them._

_'Save him,' Raven begs, and_ save me, _echoes the boy's voice in his mind_.

_Erik fights against the pain and fear that threatens to encompass him; the memories help, the knowledge he has helps. He concentrates on what he knows, on the image of an underground facility in the deep south that has been branded into his mind by another telepath not so long ago just before she, too, died an altogether too painful death from radiation poisoning. He focuses on the sleeping faces of children – mutants, all of them mutants – and the faces of their enemies, hidden beneath surgical masks._

_He is sorry for the child in Raven's arms, but even more so, he's sorry they found him too late. He can feel the boy's pain and he can almost block it when he tries. He thinks of the other telepath's last thought, a single word wrapped up in so much information, so much emotion._

_He closes his eyes, feels the thrumming of metal and saves the boy._

_Maybe they still have a future._

 

Charles coughs a rather alarming amount when they set off, but when Erik tries to ask him, he just says the dry air is irritating his throat. It's a lie – for a telepath, he's an exceptionally bad liar – and all three of them know it. There's not much more Raven or Erik can do but ignore it, although they both make sure to discreetly relieve Charles of his heavier possessions. The younger man realizes what they are doing, scowls at them and breaks into a fit of coughing that sounds worse than before. He hides the cloth that serves as his handkerchief from sight.

Erik still notices the blood.

'When the sickness abates,' Logan told them a few days past, 'the moment it comes back, he's as good as dead. Shoot him in the head if you don't want him to suffer.'

'I'm fine,' Charles snaps at no-one in particular. His voice is hoarse, his eyes blood-shot. 'I will make it, I will do it,' then he frowns. 'There's people ahead. A small group. Three or four. Mu-mutants, yes, they're all mutants. Not Government and not the rebels.'

Raven and Erik are both ahead of him, hiding him from unwanted sight, protective and guarded. It's a strategy they've employed since the beginning, since the day Charles first joined them on a scavenger hunt. They could distract enemies well enough in the time the telepath needed to pick apart anyone's mind. Sometimes, Charles didn't even need to do anything.

But the strategy proves unnecessary when they come face to face with the group of mutants. Erik knows them all: Alex Summers – or Havoc - the kid who shoots plasma beams and has abysmal control of his powers; Hank McCoy – Beast – the medical genius and a fierce warrior in one; and Angel – just Angel – the girl with dragonfly wings and sharp tongue. Once, before Charles, he met them in the freak camps. They escaped together. They each went their separate ways, or maybe just Erik did. He found Raven not too long after.

'Magneto,' Havoc greets him, grinning; even if he is surprised at meeting an old friend, he does not say it. 'Good to see you. And your companions, whoever they are.'

Erik does not remember why he used to call himself Magneto. He remembers being proud of the name, he remembers giving it to everyone after the camps, but he also remembers he stopped after meeting Charles. Maybe he grew up. It does sound childish to his ears after all those years.

'Havoc,' he acknowledges. 'Beast, Angel,' he nods at each of them. 'These are Raven, my sister,' he introduces, ' and that is-'

'Charles Xavier,' Charles interrupts him, smiling as he extends a hand to shake for the three travellers. They do it in silence. 'Now, please excuse us, but we need to move along-'

'No, you don't want to go north,' Beast informs them. 'There's a new city being built directly ahead. If the Government catches you near it...'

'They'll either make you forced labourers or they'll kill you on the spot,' Angel finishes. 'We barely escaped. They say it's safer to go to the wastelands than back to New York.'

'Well, we're going to Westchester one way or another,' replies Raven and shrugs. 'Don't worry, Charles can deal with any trouble on the road.'

'I don't know about Charles,' Havoc says doubtfully, 'but sure, if Magneto's into going there, you'll get there. He's a stubborn bastard.'

'He is,' Raven agrees, eyeing the other mutant suspiciously.

Charles appears... nervous, for some reason Erik cannot fathom. He keeps glancing from him to the group of mutants, as though he's waiting for something to happen. He's hiding something, but it's impossible to tell what. He's harder to read now than ever. Erik doesn't like it. If he could, he would force Charles' mind open and learn all his secrets, all the little things he has ever kept to himself, hidden. He would make Charles his in every sense of the word. He would ascertain that he were the only thing on Charles' mind for the rest of his life.

It's creepy how much the thought appeals to him.

'If you go a little further south,' Charles speaks up and smiles again, radiant and beautiful, 'there's an amazing place down there. Howard Stark's department store. It has electricity and running water.'

He sounds like he's advertising the place, Erik notices and looks at Charles intently. The younger man is not looking back at him, instead focusing his gaze on the yellow grass at his feet as though it's the most entertaining sight on Earth. He has never behaved this way since as long as Erik knows him. It's disconcerting, it's confusing.

And then Charles starts coughingh violently; he covers his face with his hands as he does. The attack lasts a few good minutes and when it ends, his hands are spotted with red. He reaches into his pockets to find the damn handkerchief. Erik hands him his own.

'Uh, are you sure you guys should be travelling? That doesn't seem like a cold,' Beast says.

'We have a place we need to be,' Raven replies pleasantly. 'Now, thanks for the warning. We'll be extremely careful and stuff.'

'Will we meet again?' Angel asks, looking at Erik with a kind of warmth in her eyes that he doesn't expect. She's so young, but she's already seen so much. The freak camps. The death and the radiation poisoning there. The massacre of that last night.

'I doubt it,' he tells her truthfully. He's not sorry about it. They part ways.

Charles is back to normal within minutes. He won't reply when Erik asks what it was about.

 

The thing is, it's very easy for all three of them to pass off as humans. Erik is human, so that goes without saying; Raven uses her talent to wear a face of a young blond girl they have never met – her imagination really is that good, or maybe he just saw a picture somewhere – and Charles simply acts normal. If they're lucky, the new establishment is still understaffed and has no gene recognition systems installed yet. Even if it does, Erik knows Charles can make the guards forget ever seeing them without much of an effort.

No, he's not worried about the new city being built of scrap metal and scavanged wood in the middle of nowhere because it's not his problem (and they pass it, unnoticed, just as predicted). His problem is that potentially, Charles won't survive the next twenty-four hours. It's a possibility he had never considered before, not in the more mundane capacity of actually losing everything – their goal, their _hope_ of ever succeeding in their endeavour. He's always concentrated on the fact that he would lose Charles, the sweet, determined, ridiculously attractive young man he fell in love God knows when; now, he finally understands the danger of losing the telepath Charles Xavier, the key to the success of the mission, the only person who can do what needs to be done. It scares the hell out of him, because if this fails, if they fail, he has nothing left. He doesn't want to give up. He doesn't really think he can.

Charles grabs his arm. His grip is still tight. 'I'm not dead yet,' he says, then smiles.

'I'm sorry. I was thinking too loudly, wasn't I?' Erik asks, shaking his head, angry with himself at the slip-up. He was supposed to be the safe presence for Charles, not bleed his insecurities into the younger man's mind.

'It's okay. I'm just getting sharper,' Charles replies casually, shrugging. 'As everything shuts down, the voices are clearer. I can,' he pauses, shakes his head, continues, 'I can hear Logan when I concentrate. Some stray thoughts, but I think he realized I was there once. It's getting sharper, Erik. You can't possibly imagine what it's like,' he closes his eyes. 'If we find what we're looking for, I'll be able to show you. If you wish, that is,' he trails off, uncertain.

Erik touches his hand with his fingers. 'I'll be honoured, my friend,' he promises.

 

_The freak camps, as some call them, are the_ safe havens _for special children, children with powers. Erik doesn't really belong, because he's just a normal human, but the others accept him easily. He's a survivor. He can get by. He's older, all of twelve years old, and he's wiser than all of the kids that follow him around. He knows how to obtain food when there's none left and he knows how to escape when the world goes to hell again. The soldiers of the newly founded Government come to detain the mutants._

_Everything trembles, the air itself trembles and suddenly there are screams and gunshots, but it's not the soldiers shooting and it's not the children screaming. It takes ten minutes to liberate the camp. It takes another ten minutes to loot the corpses and escape._

_Nobody knows what really happened in the freak camp, although Angel, Beast and Havoc have some suspicions._

_Six years later, Charles Xavier sees everything in Erik's mind – and fixes it._

 

'We can take turns carrying him,' Raven says two days later, when they set camp for the night. 'If he gets worse. Anyhow, we should be there tomorrow, maybe the day after tomorrow if the weather goes to hell. I looked at the maps. It's not that far.'

'The fever will kill him,' Erik mutters and curses. 'The meds are no longer helping. He hasn't eaten at all today. He threw up when I forced some soup into him, but he still insists on walking without support. I don't,' he pauses. Raven looks at him expectantly. 'I don't know how to help him,' he finishes and massages his temples.

Lately, he has been having nightmares. Memories of the camps and visions of the day he and Raven found Charles, snippets and sequences he can't quite place in time. Everything before Charles is blurry in his mind and he understands that this is the result of close contact with a telepath. He knows Raven remembers even less, her mind is more susceptible to being unconsciously manipulated. He thought he was okay with that. He finds he's not. Something is bothering him.

Charles' behaviour in the brief company of people from Erik's past is bothering him.

'If I had a power, any power,' he mutters and frowns.

'You'd still be just as helpless agaist whatever disease is eating his lungs,' Raven says darkly.

She looks tired. It's a first. She hasn't been sleeping since they left the department store building. Too worried about Charles, unable to shield against all of his projections that he is letting slip increasingly often, Raven is exhausted and it shows in the way she carries herself.

'Do you suppose,' she asks after a while, when the makeshift tent for Charles is all set up and the younger man is safely tucked in to sleep. 'Do you suppose if not for the war, we would have all met?' Her expression is vulnerable, hopeful. She seeks consolation in visions of a better world, a world that does not exist.

Erik can relate. Sometimes, he imagines the war never happened. He can almost picture Charles as a scientist of some kind, young, bright and blue-eyed, fascinated with the world around him. Raven is always somewhere in the vicinity, acting like a mother-hen, questioning his life choices. Erik... is missing from the picture most of the time. Sometimes, the fantasy features him, yes, but imagining himself as happy and careless is impossible, so he doesn't even try. He just wishes to see Charles live a real, fulfilling life, even if it happens only in his head.

'Maybe,' he says when it's clear Raven is waiting for an answer. 'He would have sought you out. He said so. With his powers. He would have sought many mutants out, to give them a safe place to live in his freakishly huge house in Westchester.'

'He loves you,' Raven informs him. She pats his knee. 'He's been in love with you forever. He doesn't care that you're not a mutant.'

Erik knows this. He says nothing in return, just watches the small bonfire that does nothing to keep him warm, but is enough to cook on. Not that he uses it. He's not hungry. He's not even tired. He's just helpless.

'Are we doing the right thing?' He asks, directing the question more to himself than to Raven. He falls back, lays on the ground and looks up at the starry sky above. It's funny. The stars he's seeing are the same stars that people could see before the war, the same stars that existed when humans were not even in existence yet. They will be there long after Erik dies, silent observers, indifferent to the suffering down below them. He wishes he could bring them all down and force them to experience his own pain... Charles' pain.

In a day or two, their journey will be over. They'll be back to where it all started, back to Westchester, to the mansion where once, a boy was almost killed at him own home by a group of scavengers. He was left for dead. What saved him then was basically a miracle.

'I need another miracle,' Erik whispers and closes his eyes.

He dreams vividly that night, more vividly than he remembers being able to dream before, as though a dam suddenly broke in his mind. He dreams of a power that could rip guns out of the hands of their owners and pull the triggers without touching them. He dreams of a power that could bend metal walls. He dreams of a power that turns a broken iron pole into liquid and fills a wound, closes it, encases a fractured vertebra and saves a life. In the dreams, that power belongs to him.

When he wakes up, he tries to bend a large, metal spoon without touching it, just in case a miracle has happened after all. The metal obediently takes the form he forces it into. It's not a miracle. He _remembers_. He is Magneto. He has been all along.

Charles remains unconscious for the next twenty three hours. Erik finds that beyond anger, he does not feel any particular way about it. It's a refreshing change.

 

The mansion is still there. While New York City was utterly destroyed by the atom, most of its surroundings remained intact, providing shelter for wandering groups of scavengers and refugees for years after the war. Erik doesn't know which group it was that found the Xavier estate in Westchester and decided to plunder it. He doesn't really care who it was that stumbled on a boy, ten years old back then, and decided stabbing him with a metal pole in the back was a particularly good idea. What he is interested in is, the mansion is still standing, just the way they'd left it years ago.

Charles is conscious, but barely. Raven supports him because he can't keep upright without help. It's, for lack of a better word, pathetic. Erik would just carry the telepath inside by force, but Raven won't let him. She's angry, he can tell, although he sincerely doesn't understand why she chose to be angry at him of all people.

He's not the one who used his powers to fuck with someone else's mind.

'He's projecting guilt and regret like crazy,' she snaps at him when Erik levels her with a gaze. 'I have no fucking idea what's going on, but I suggest if you want to talk to him, do it now.'

'There's nothing to talk about. Come on. Emma said the machine was under the mansion,' Erik tells her and heads inside.

He's slightly surprised that nothing changed. Even the rusty stain of old blood on the floor remains in its place, reminding Erik of that day nearly ten years ago when he saved Charles with his power and was robbed of it in return.

He hears Charles make a weak noise somewhere behind him and he almost pities the telepath. At times, the projections are so strong, he almost feels like he is hallucinating. There are images in his head, memories of starvation and fear – and he realizes, startled, that these are not his memories. For some reason, he always assumed that prior to his almost death, Charles had everything he could want. After all, during their travels later, Charles was nothing but a pampered princess who refused to eat bread even after the mouldy bits were removed for him, or didn't want to drink water that smelled funny. Yet, the memories of the mansion, for him, include mostly starvation, pain and terror.

Suddenly, Erik has a horrible epiphany: those are memories from before the war, not after. Those are the memories of a four-year old Charles Xavier.

It's hard to still hate him after this.

It's even harder to pretend he ever did hate him at all.

According to Emma, there is a hidden switch in one of the walls in the west wing of the mansion. They find it not without effort. Pressing it reveals a long, winding staircase that leads down. The walls are encased with some kind of metal, cool to the touch and thick. Charles is leaning on them for support as he tries to walk by himself; Erik is hyper-aware of the younger man's feverish touch against the surface of metal panels, almost as though they were an extension of his own skin. Not long ago, Charles would have leaned on him. Not long ago, he would have welcomed it.

There is a heavy, steel door at the end of the staircase. Erik is ready to rip it apart, but there is no need to – it reacts to Charles' presence, opening in front of them like it has been waiting for their arrival. Charles stumbles inside. Raven catches him before he falls.

The room is... unusual. It's a perfect sphere, lined with metal panels that appear to create a pattern that Erik does not understand. In the center of the room, there is what seems like a cockpit, but more complicated than anything Erik has ever seen, including the security systems in the freak camp. The center of the room is connected with the entrance via a long bridge, barely wide enough for all three of them to walk arm in arm. Raven helps Charles to the cockpit.

'Thank you,' the telepath croaks out.

_We are finally at the end of the road_ , Erik thinks and he knows Charles can hear him over the onslaught of memories and hallucinations clouding his mind. _You have to make it work. You're our only hope._

 

_Emma Frost finds him at his worst, when he's bitter, cold and alone, still in shock after the massacre of his own making. She's older than him, maybe sixteen, maybe even more, it's hard to tell with the radiation burns all over her face and body. She looks like a monster and she might just be one. She's a telepath._

_Erik gives her water because she makes him give her water. He lets her inside his mind because he has no choice. He doesn't know how to shield, how to keep her out, and she uses it to her advantage. She brands the images deep in his mind: a white room with a hundred beds, all occupied by children with IV drips._

_'Comatose,' she tells him in his head. 'It's artificially induced. Most of them have been there since they were born. They have never taken a breath of their own.'_

_'Why?' Erik wants to ask, but he knows already._

_The children are mutants, every single one of them. Born after the gene analyzer was invented, they had no chance of avoiding detection. Humans, the Government, found them and kept them away from anyone. Killing them would be a waste. They can be used for research. Maybe._

_Emma was one of them. Her father, a human who worked in the facility under a pseudonym, gave up his life to break her out of there. He told her everything. He told her about_ Cerebro. _She travelled, scared and alone, she crossed the wastelands and survived. She didn't reach her destination._

_'A telepath can wake them all up,' she tells Erik and shows him: a pre-war mansion in Westchester, New York, a basement and a machine that amplifies any telepath's powers. It's real. Built by Brian Xavier. With it, a telepath can connect to any mind in the world. Send an impulse. Wake them all up. Give them a chance._

_Kill the humans. All of them._

_'Humanity did this to us, Magneto,' Emma tells him. 'They started this war. They ended it. They destroyed the world and they suppressed us. You need to take revenge. I can't. You do it.'_

_She doesn't say that the telepath will die, killed by the strain Cerebro puts on their mind. Erik hears it anyway. It's just another information._

_After she dies, he thinks his hatred of humans has always been there. It's stronger. It's overwhelming, all-consuming. He wants them to pay. In his mind's eye, he sees them all, helpless as they die from an impulse in their minds, an invisible reaper they cannot stop._

_Years later, Charles Xavier makes him human. The hatred remains, rooted too deeply, but the desire for genocide subsides. He's miserable like this. He's happier like this._

_Charles does it for him. To save him from the burn of hatred. To show him the right path. To – to prevent him from becoming a monster. It's wrong of him, unforgivable._

_Yet, he still loves Charles Xavier after he finds out._

 

Charles reaches, with shaking hands, for the semi-transparent helmet which rests on the cockpit. It's connected to the machinery with a plentitude of wires. It looks like a torture device, not something that is supposed to save the world. Erik doesn't want Charles near it, but he suppresses the urge to pull the younger man into his arms and keep him safe. Instead, he watches as Charles dons the helmet and closes his eyes; he sees Raven's hand tighten on Charles' shoulder.

This is it.

'Meeting the two of you,' Charles says softly and it's the last time he ever speaks out loud, 'was the best thing that could have happened to me. Thank you.'

The next moment, they are surrounded by stars and voices filling the spherical room, Charles' voice the strongest of all, his star the brightest in a constellation of blue and red. _There are so few of them left,_ Charles says and sighs. _I will end this for you_ , he promises. He does something, it's like an _impulse_ , he supplies, soft, warm and the red dots pulsate, pulsate, and suddenly they multiply. New voices, new stars in the red constellations. Alive. Awake. Confused, but there, there, and _they will be safe_.

_I love you_ , Charles says and the information is purely for Erik to hear. He knows what happens now. He panicks, tries to touch Charles' arm, tries to stop him, but there's another impulse, this one longer, shrill and unnatural, like a bombing alert in a city shredded by war. It's accompanied by screams and cries of fear, of pain and suffering.

When it's over, Erik opens his eyes. He doesn't remember closing them. Raven is sobbing, kneeling on the metal floor with Charles' head in her lap. The helmet rolled away, discarded in a hurry when the telepath crumpled to the ground like a ragdoll, but the constellation of red stars – of mutants – still hangs around them, filling the room, still connected to their minds via Charles before they slowly fade.

The blue is gone from the array.

Erik doesn't know he's falling until his knees hit the ground. He all but crawls towards Raven and Charles. He reaches to touch the younger man, hesitates, allows his fingers to make contact with the skin of Charles' face. It's no longer feverish, just damp with sweat and maybe tears. His eyes are closed, his epression relaxed, peaceful. Erik feels his heart fill with hope for one second – he's asleep, he's cured, he's just asleep - before the truth he has known all along strikes.

The world has changed. Humanity, the race who conquered the planet Earth and destroyed it, is gone. In its place, a new, better species awakens from a slumber that lasted over a decade. They need a leader. They need a protector. They need a teacher. Magneto will be all that, tomorrow.

Today, Erik Lehnsherr allows himself to mourn.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> This was my first work for X-Men. Definitely not the last. So much delicious drama to explore! I hope someone out there enjoys my writing :)
> 
> Please note that I know next to nothing about the comic canon, just the movie-verse. Also, I've known the movie-verse for all of a month, since Days of Future Past premiered here in Poland. This means, unfortunately, that I may be wrong in one thing or another. Still, I rather like the story that came out as a result of my new-found love for this canon - do you?


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